


You Carried Me Home, But I Don't Want To Go Back (For That Home Is Not With You)

by ohmygoshwhatascream



Series: Xenoblade Ship Week 2020 [7]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post Game, Reyn is a very supportive boyfriend, Shulk has a lot of issues, Spoilers, Trauma, and he loves Shulk very much, and soft feelings, lots of fluff, which he needs to work through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygoshwhatascream/pseuds/ohmygoshwhatascream
Summary: Shulk does not want to go home, for his home is full of memories that he would rather forget. So in the lab he stays.He works until he cannot keep his eyes open any longer, until his back hurts and his shoulders are stiff.And even then he does not go home.Written for Xenoblade Ship Week 2020Prompt: Denial/Trust
Relationships: Reyn/Shulk (Xenoblade Chronicles)
Series: Xenoblade Ship Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781698
Comments: 9
Kudos: 82





	You Carried Me Home, But I Don't Want To Go Back (For That Home Is Not With You)

**Author's Note:**

> This is it. The final fic for ship week! I had a lot of fun doing these prompts, and this isn't the last you guys will see of me! I have a lot of other ideas and I plan to continue writing for all my Xenoblade ships (and a few new ones!), but these two in particular.
> 
> Sorry this one is a bit shorter! I only started writing my fics for this event on the 4th June and unfortunately, I ran out of time to really flesh out this one like I originally wanted to. This one hasn't been edited, so it's the first draft with a minor proof read, so sorry for any dips in quality.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy regardless, and I hope you've all enjoyed this year's ship week! Make sure to support the other Xenoblade writers who've also contributed!

Shulk's back hurts. He notices this with a dulled sort of disinterest. It's a throbbing sort of pain; a deep ache that tightens at the muscles in his shoulder blades. When he leans back, raises his arms above his head, his spine pops. The bones grind against one another with a sick crunching sound, accompanied by a burning in his muscles that serve as an instant signal to Shulk that it's time to turn in for the night.

But, as usual, he ignores the symptoms. He ignores the signs of a body that just needs some rest; some time away from being hunched over a desk. He ignores the pain and discomfort, for there is still work left to do. 

He does not _need_ to end this day, he tells himself. He does not need to stop working, to go to sleep. He does not need to go _home._

The thought of home is accompanied by a pang of guilt, the sharp pain of a wound that has not quite healed. His heart sinks for _home_ now means emptiness, a house made for two that now only has one. The house he had grown up in, the house where he had been given a second chance at a family. The house where he and Dickson had once lived.

_Dickson._ Those memories of a past long gone. His childhood, the moments of his life that he had thought would always be his happiest. He'd been wrong, for now those memories are tainted by the plague of a life that he had never really lived.

Now Dickson is dead and it was _Shulk_ who had killed him. 

There is anger there. Red and hot. Anger that burns at his skin, melts his flesh from the inside out. Like hot wax though, it melts. Away it burns and then the hurt is all that remains. The anger is what had driven him forwards, allowed him to _fight_ back then, when the man he had always thought of as his own _father_ had revealed his true plan.

The dropping of his stomach as that bullet had shot through his chest, as he had seen the man who raised him with his fingers on the trigger; his eyes hard and cold as he aimed to kill. 

He had buried it all inside of him on that dark stain of Prison Island. He had pretended that he was not hurt, pretended that he was not wounded beyond compare at the fact that he'd never had a father. He's merely been a pawn, a tool used for greater means. He pretended that his _father_ (for that was who Dickson had once been. Not in blood, but in spirit) had not tried to murder him, his _father_ had not tried to destroy him when his will broke the will of Zanza.

Maybe, somewhere along the way, Dickson had grown to care for him, but that didn't stop him from betraying them. From trying to destroy all life, _everything_ . He had pretended to care about them, purposely led them in the direction of Zanza's master plan. He had _manipulated_ Shulk to meet his will, to return the power of a God and to lay siege and destruction to the rest of the world.

So Shulk does _not_ want to go home. For home is full of memories. Home is full of a life from long ago, one where he had Dickson had been happy. When the world hadn't been perfect, but Shulk had been _happy._

That's not to say he isn't happy now. He _is,_ but… his home is no longer a _home._ It is a place of shadowed memories, a place where he does not belong. He feels like an intruder, like the space once belonged to someone different. It all feels _dirty._ Not warm and comforting, not safe, not like he _remembered._

Was he truly alive as a child? Was his life ever his own? 

He is scared of the answer to that question. He is _scared_ of the memories in that house, of the nightmares that plague every dark corner and every long shadow. 

So he might as well carry on working. His back, his shoulders, tense with strain, can suffer some more. He will not stop working, not until he can work no longer. And even then, he will continue. Even when his energy is gone and his body will not move, he will not stop. 

Onwards he continues. He drafts his plans for The Conversion; of Fiora's Mechon body being converted to flesh and blood once more. His tired eyes wince over Sharla and Linada's complicated drawings, showing both Homs and Machina physiology. He has various pieces of faced-mechon wreckage strewn across his desk, pieces picked apart; wires torn and bolts cut. Messy notes lay everywhere, haphazard and lacking all order. 

Shulk rubs at his eyes, for the words no longer make sense. The drawings blur and fade until they are no longer living bodies but merely squiggles on a page. He blinks, hard, until black spots mar his vision. He blinks again.

His back cracks as he shifts in his seat, his shoulders are tight and strained and his eyes droop closed. But he can't go _home._ He has to keep working. For Fiora, for her to return to a homs body once more. For himself, because he cannot bear to go home. 

So he keeps working and working and working, but it isn't long before his eyes - as if of their own accord - begin to slip shut. He fights to keep them open but it feels as if his eyelashes have been weighed down with lead. He cannot refuse the call of sleep, the soft song that the promise of rest brings.

He gives in. lets the song of sleep claim him. Perhaps in a testament to his exhaustion, he's sound asleep before his head even hits the desk.

x

His dreams, as always, are strange things. He does not want to call the nightmares, for nothing _bad_ happens in them, but it is the feeling of emptiness once he awakens that leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth.

For the most part, his dreams are plain. Boring.

Never vivid. Never does he dream of real faces, of crystal clear images and events. Instead, it is wisps of life. Ones that flutter like the ether in Satorl Marsh's long nights, embers of colour that can't quite be grasped.

He hears laughter. Reyn and Fiora and Riki. He hears voices. Dunban, Melia and Sharla. 

He sees faces that aren't quite right, an amalgamation of Dickson; both homs and giant. Zanza, who one moment is himself and the next moment is _Shulk_. Alvis, Meyneth, Egil. 

He dreams of things that have already happened. Of the Ether Mine, of Xord. He dreams of Mumkhar, the dust-encrusted lands of Sword Valley. 

They never make any sense, he can never understand what is going on, what they _mean_ , but the sinking feeling when he awakens once more never leaves. 

He does not tell anyone about this. When Reyn and Fiora had spoken about their own scars, the own remnants of memory that they couldn't quite be free of, Shulk had not intervened. He had said nothing, he had not admitted that he had shadows of his own. 

He had _lied,_ and Reyn - with his hands resting on Shulk's cheek and his brow furrowed in concern - had looked like he didn't believe him, not one bit.

Reyn looked at him a lot these days. But every time he would open his mouth, every time he would begin to say something, Shulk would stop him. Their relationship was new enough that Reyn's thoughts could easily be derailed with a kiss; something which Shulk used to his advantage, to Fiora's amusement. But Shulk couldn't keep on _kissing_ Reyn every time the conversation turned to himself, turned to the feelings that Shulk was trying so hard to _hide,_ and some time soon that won't be enough.

Some time soon, Shulk will have to face the reality that he is not okay. That just because they saved the world, that does not mean they saved _him._

Part of him feels guilty. He knows how Reyn will react, how he has already been reacting, when it is revealed that Shulk has been keeping things from him. He won't be happy, not at all, and he will most likely blame himself. He seems to have made it his job to try and offer everyone support, to be there for Shulk when he is struggling, but Shulk still has a hard time believing he is _worth_ it. Worth the effort, worth Reyn's time. 

He can't help keeping it all shut away, hiding it all behind tightly closed doors. He tells himself that he doesn't need help, not like everyone else. 

Sharla's fiance was _dead_ . Fiora did not live in her real body, she was part _machine,_ Dunban had lost his sister, found out that his two closest friends were conspiring with the enemy, and had then almost lost his sister again. Melia's entire family had died. Her homeland had been destroyed and she is now a ruler of an almost extinct race. 

He _can't_ complain. He has nothing to complain about. 

It doesn't matter that Dickson was basically his father. It doesn't matter that his entire life was a lie, that he was _raised_ to be a servant to the gods, that the only reason he was kept alive was to destroy the world itself. That doesn't matter.

He can't be a burden to others. He can't let his own issues, his own inability to overcome his weaknesses, drag others down. 

He doesn't want Reyn to worry. He doesn't want Reyn to care.

So his dreams are strange. They are vague, mishmashes of light that leave his heart heavy and his stomach empty, but he does not wake up.

x

"Shulk," he hears. Something jostles him, there is a gentle weight on his shoulders. "Shulk." The voice again, he is jostled once more. "Shulk!"

His eyes flicker open, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. The first thing he's aware of is the pain in his neck, the ache in his shoulders. His face is squished against the desk, his hands raised over his head like a pillow, and his body has paid the price of it.

He must groan, must make some sound of discomfort, for suddenly there are hands on his shoulders, a pair of thumbs digging into the sorest parts of his muscles, rubbing gentle circles against the base of his neck. The motion is nice and Shulk can't stop the pleased puff of air that leaves his lips, the way his eyelashes flutter as Reyn's fingers work at a particularly tight set of muscles. 

Shulk pushes himself upwards, twists himself around, and there is Reyn. 

"Hey," he whispers, his voice hoarse from sleep. 

"Hey." Reyn responds, loudly. He flushes at the volume of his voice, his eyes darting across the room, his fingers falling from the back of Shulk's neck, and Shulk pulls him down for a kiss. 

"What are you doing here?" He asks, pulling back just enough that he can breathe the words against the corner of Reyn's mouth. 

He pushes Shulk back, his brow furrowed. Shulk notices the bags under his eyes, the dark shadows.

"What are _you_ doing here?" 

The question is fair and Shulk cringes, shoulders rising as he tenses. 

"Work." He mumbles, defensively. Reyn's sigh is long and hard. A flash of annoyance crosses his face before he schools himself, trying to keep his face neutral. The concern still flashes through, still lingers in his ever-expressive eyes. 

"Didn't look like work to me."

His hand cradles Shulk's face, his fingers like ladybug steps against his jaw. He leans down again, kisses him. 

"You're tired an' I ain't lettin' you sleep here. Come on, Shulk."

He makes a weak noise of protest, lips tightening against Reyn's.

"I _can't_." He mumbles, pulling back with a gasp. He leans away from Reyn, his hands scrubbing through his hair. "There's still so much left to do. Fiora's new body needs-"

"Fiora can wait." Reyn cuts him off. "You know she won't mind. _Besides,_ how're you supposed t'work when you're falling asleep where you stand. If you wanna help Fiora, the best thing you can do right now is get some rest! She'll have my head if I don't stop you from overworkin' yourself."

Shulk looks up at Reyn, looks at that familiar smile worn on his face; the one that crinkles the very corners of his eyes. He looks at his work, at the aline sketches; black ink stark against white paper. The harshness of straight lines, of carefully organised notes and plans. Well, it's a _mess_ of notes and plans, organised in a chaos that only Shulk can begin to understand. 

He looks back at Reyn. The scruff of his hair, sticking up in odd directions from the journey over here. He's wearing an old shirt, one with loose threads at the hem, and an old pair of trousers that are slightly too short for him. The skin of his ankles is dark against the soft white fabric of his slippers - ones decorated with the cartoonish, smiling faces of a bunnit. (A birthday present from Riki) 

"You- you were sleeping." Shulk grits out, feeling the guilt begin to rise. _Just brilliant._ Reyn had come out here to get him. Shulk had stopped Reyn from sleeping, stopped him from being able to rest, because he didn't want to go back 'home'. 

"Nah," Reyn shakes his head, the longer pieces of his hair falling in front of his eyes before he pushes them back with a huff. "I couldn't sleep. I was gonna see if you were still awake, an' then I got to your place an' you weren't there. Figured you'd be here." 

He pauses, tilts his head in a way that makes Shulk think of a baby volff. "I wanted to see _you._ You've been actin' weird all week."

Shulk opens his mouth to protest, but Reyn cuts him off.

"I know I ain't the most observant, but I _have_ noticed you bein' all weird. An' I don't mean this in a bad way, but you keep kissin' me."

Reyn dithers on his feet, clenches and unclenches his fists in a familiar movement that reads _I know what I want to say, but I don't know how to say it._

"And I'm not complaining about that, it's great. You can kiss me whenever you want, y'know. I like it, I like _you_ a lot. But don't just go an' kiss me when I start askin' if you're okay."

He folds his arms then, looking down at Shulk with his eyebrows furrowed. The gesture actually brings back a bleary memory of their youth; of Dunban reprimanding Reyn for trying to swim all the way to Agora Shore. 

"And you _think_ you've been distractin' me with that, an' - okay, you sort of _have_ but also I'm lettin' you get away with it! Don't think I don't know what you're doing! You bein' all cute and soft an' all when I'm trynna talk t'you about stuff."

Shulk flushes at that. "I'm not cute!" He insists, feeling suddenly self-conscious. He's still not quite used to the way Reyn just… compliments him. As in, Reyn's always complimented him, but now that they're _dating_ it's gone beyond the normal brand of compliments. Now it's as if walls have been broken down, and suddenly Reyn's telling him that he's _cute_ or _beautiful_ or _his ass looks good in those trousers._ Shulk still doesn't quite believe it, really. That _Reyn_ of all people had wanted to be with _him._

Reyn raises an eyebrow. "You _are_ cute. Ridiculously so. You're just-" Reyn flaps his hands, "I love you a lot, y'know. You mean a lot to me." And now Shulk's face is blushing even harder.

" _Anyway,_ " Reyn continues, shaking his head as if he can disperse his wandering train of thought. "That's not what I'm tryna say. What I _mean_ is I've been lettin' you distract me with all your charms and things-" Shulk doesn't think he has any 'charms and things', but Reyn ploughs on over his stutterings of protest. "- because I figured you'd tell me what was wrong eventually."

Reyn pauses, rolls his left shoulder back, (remnants of a childhood injury that never properly healed) and a suddenly forlorn expression rests on his face. Shulk's heart clenches.

"An' you haven't. You haven't told me a thing." 

Reyn suddenly blinks quickly, averts his gaze to the floor.

"If it's- if I'm doing somethin' wrong, or I ain't really what you want, then just tell me Shulk, 'cause I just want you to be happy."

Like lead, it feels as if Shulk's stomach has dropped to the floor. 

He closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and steels himself. He takes Reyn's hand in his own and he does not ignore the way they are much bigger than his, much harder and rougher and littered with scars and cuts and bruises. While Shulk's fingers are slender and straight, Reyn's are thick, heavy-worn and some fingers are bent slightly; from times where they have been broken and not set back into place. 

They're warm, warm and safe. Shulk squeezes them, brings his eyes up to meet Reyn's own.

"It's not you, Reyn. I… I love you. You're my best friend, and I- I feel, sometimes… I-"

He stutters through his words, embarrassed to voice his thoughts aloud. Reyn, however, waits. For all his impatience, for all Reyn's inability to sit still and wait, he's always let Shulk take all the time he's needed. He simply stands there, his hands squeezing Shulk's ever so softly, and there's a sad sort of smile playing on his lips.

"I feel like I don't deserve you."

There's a sharp exhale of air. Reyn's hands tighten in his own. Shulk feels himself shrink. He wants to sink into the ground, sink far, far away from here. 

"That's not true and you know it." 

Reyn squeezes Shulk's hands again; harder this time.

"You don't have to _deserve_ me. I ain't here because of any of the things you have or haven't done. I'm here because you're my best friend. Because I _love you,_ Shulk. I'm here because I _want_ to be, because I want to be by your side and I want to be with you. You don't have to do _anything_ to have me. You've got me because you're _you._ "

And then something in Shulk snaps. He shouts, his words loud enough that even Reyn steps back.

"But I'm _not_ me! I never _was_ me. I should be dead, I shouldn't be here. I should have died on Valak Mountain. And now I'm here, and everyone is getting better, the _world_ is getting better, but I'm _not._ I'm still just me. And I was _never_ good enough. Not back then and not now. I _should_ be better, I _should_ be stronger, and I'm _not._ "

Reyn's hands squeeze even tighter around Shulk's own, tight enough that it almost begins to hurt. Shulk looks up and flinches. Reyn's looking down at him, a twisted sort of expression that Shulk has never seen before.

And then Reyn's kissing him. Hard, almost painful, for their teeth clack together with a force and Reyn's lips are rough against Shulk's own. And then Reyn is pulling back, a redness to his eyes that wasn't there before, and then he rests his forehead against Shulk's own. 

"You _are_ you. You've always been Shulk. No matter what _anyone_ says, I grew up with you. I can't remember a day of my life that didn't have you in it. You're here and you're just as important as anyone else. An' it's okay if you're still hurtin', it's _okay_ if you aren't… _okay._ That's fine. You don't have to be doin' good, you don't have to pretend that you're fine when you're _not._ "

His voice breaks at the end, a waver in his pitch that Shulk rarely hears.

"Just tell someone. It don't even have to be me, but you ain't alone."

Reyn gulps and Shulk watches the bob of his adam's apple. 

"Look, I came to find you 'cause I couldn't sleep. I… I ain't doin' that great either, if I'm honest. An'... that's fine. I know I'm not in the right either, 'cause I've been pretendin' I'm fine when I ain't… but…" He scrubs a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more than it already was.

"It don't matter why you're upset, really. I mean- I dunno how to say it, but just because you think people have it worse than you, that don't mean that you deserve less help, or you should just 'get on with it', y'know?"

Reyn looks at Shulk expectantly, but when he gets no response he sighs, rubs at his eyes.

"I'm shit at this sorta thing. Sorry. But I love you man, I'm here for you. Always. So if you wanna talk, or you wanna get things off your chest, tell me."

Shulk's heart swells. It _soars._ He feels a lightness, a weight being lifted off of his shoulders. He feels a fool for pretending everything is alright when it hasn't been. He feels a fool for thinking he'd managed to trick Reyn into thinking everything is fine. And, although he still doesn't quite believe it, he thinks that - while looking at Reyn, sleep-rumpled and tired, with his hair a mess and his eyes smudged with shadows - maybe, just maybe, he isn't a burden.

Reyn always makes him feel like that, somehow. When Shulk is at his lowest, it's Reyn who brings him back up. Who holds him above the water when he feels as if he's drowning. 

"You have to tell me too," Shulk says and Reyn cocks his head, brows furrowing in confusion. "When you're feeling bad," Shulk clarifies. "You said you couldn't sleep tonight… and I- I want to be here for you, if you ever need me. We're a team, remember? You've got my back, and I've got your's."

Reyn smiles. He smiles brighter than an aurora that splits the night sky. Brighter than the daffodils in spring bloom, brighter than the ether glow of evenings, than the sun splitting the sky come sunrise. He smiles so bright it's almost blinding; so bright that the storm raging in Shulk's mind begins to cease. 

So he talks. Before he can even stop himself, before he can overthink anything, he talks. 

He says it all, spills everything. The pain, the strange dreams that he can't seem to shake. The memories, the trauma that lingers. Reyn occasionally intervenes, speaks of the things that have stayed with him - his own demons that he can't get rid of. They talk until Shulk's eyes are drooping once more, once the dregs of exhaustion begin to claim him. 

His eyes slip shut, just for a moment, and then he hears Reyn's laughter. 

Bright and free, Shulk realises with a pang. He had not heard it quite like this, not for a while. Reyn sounds lighter, sounds happier than he has in weeks, and Shulk feels the same sort of elation. 

The problems are still there, the wounds are still not healed, but for now; it does not seem so scary. The demons lie in the dark, but they must not walk their paths alone. Reyn is by his side and together they will fight. All of them, the entire world, will work together. To soothe the wounds, heal the scars, to believe in a better future. 

He thinks all of that as his eyes slip shut again and again and again, as sleep rises and it becomes harder and harder to keep his head upright and his vision clear.

Then, without warning, he feels hands on his skin and suddenly the chair beneath him is gone and he's lifted up into the air. He smells fresh rainfall, the earth and outdoors. The faintest smell of smoke. Reyn lifts him up as if he ways nothing, and Shulk snuggles into him. 

"Let's get you home then." He says and, even in his sleep-deprived weariness, Shulk freezes at those words. 

His eyes open, his head suddenly in a panic. He doesn't want to go home. Not back there, not in that empty house. He can't face those pictures, those memories. Not tonight. He's not strong enough. Not with his emotions already running so high, so raw and close to the surface.

"Shulk?" Reyn's voice is concerned. "What's wrong?" 

He gulps, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. The self-doubt rises once more, the nervousness returning full force. He knows it is foolish, he knows it is irrational, for it is _Reyn_ and Reyn would never judge him for such a thing, but the mind can be a cruel place and it leaves Shulk struggling for a breath.

"I don't want to go home. Not there. Can't I- can I... can I stay with you?"

By the end of his sentence, his voice is barely a whisper, barely a gust of wind on the night air. They are outside now, for Shulk can feel the chill of darkness creeping at his skin. He can hear the chittering of cicadas, late in the evening, their wings buzzing in an endless drone, a small comfort to focus on as Shulk feels the rise of memories.

"Oh." Is Reyn's eloquent response. "Oh, no." There's a pause as Reyn shifts Shulk in his arms, raises him higher until Shulk lifts his head to look up at him. Even in the relative darkness of the night, he can still see the glow of Reyn's eyes. Like swirling ether, like the guideposts that had once lined Tephra Cave; it is a comfort. 

"I, uh, didn't mean _your_ house."

He's nervous, Shulk can feel it for Reyn taps his fingers when he gets nervous, quick jitters like a drum beat. Like the rhythmic tick of a clock against Shulk's skin.

"When I said home, I meant with me. In my house. Together."

Shulk's breath catches in his throat.

"It's fine if you don't want to. I just…"

"Are you asking me to move in with you?"

Shulk is sitting up in Reyn's arms, an awkward position until Reyn eventually places him down. Catching his footing, he raises to his full height, his fingers instantly smoothing the skin on Reyn's cheekbones. He can feel the heat radiating off of him and, although it is too dark to see, he can imagine the deep red flush that would shimmer like stardust on his dark skin. 

"Yeah." Reyn audibly swallows. "Yeah, I am." 

Shulk tilts his head back and _laughs._

He stands on the very tips of his toes, and when he's still not quite tall enough, he wraps his arms around Reyn's neck and levers himself upwards. He kisses him, smiles against Reyn's lips and lets the warmth flow through him. 

He pulls back, looking at the glint of Reyn's eyes in the gloom. 

"Is that a yes?" 

Shulk laughs again, resting his forehead against Reyn's chest. 

"Yeah. That's a yes."

And then, without any warning at all, Reyn has Shulk swept off of his feet once more. He carries him through the new colony, a spring in his step. 

He carries Shulk _home._

**Author's Note:**

> hehehe post game reyn/shulk slow burn 200k words go.
> 
> one of these days,,,, i will write that


End file.
